


cut off my fingers to touch your smile

by bbyfruit



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends With Benefits, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-06-22 15:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15585183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbyfruit/pseuds/bbyfruit
Summary: There’s a soulmark on his arm, unmistakable in its swirling colors, blues and reds and purples, and it’s exactly where he collided with the kid earlier.“Oh, shit,” Even whispers, staring at it, mesmerized.Mikael looks at him halfway amazed and halfway worried. “Is that what I think it is?”“Yeah,” Even says grimly. “I guess I met him.”





	1. even

Even is late, but that’s nothing new. And it’s a Tuesday morning and he’s got a coffee in his hand and he’s hauling ass across campus, his jacket barely even on, and he can  _ see  _ the art building when it all goes to shit.

His shoulder collides with some kind of obstacle and then there’s hot coffee everywhere and his arm is burning, all tingly and weird. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” the obstacle says. Even blinks. There’s a boy in front of him, covered in coffee and clutching at his arm where Even careened into it. Before he can think, he’s already moving, reaching toward the door of the building.

“I’m so sorry,” Even blurts out, slamming into the door and pushing it open.

The kid is still standing completely stationary, a little puddle of coffee near his shoes, brows furrowed and frowning. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he calls after Even. 

Even’s already down the hall. He feels pretty bad about the whole thing, probably should have apologised more or offered some sort of solution, but on the other hand, he really needs to get to his class. He checks his phone. Shit. He’s a solid twenty minutes late and there’s no way he can slip in without disrupting the class.  _ And _ he can’t miss any more classes after his latest depressive episode left him bedridden for a solid week. 

Fuck it, he decides. He’s going to walk in late and coffee-stained with his head held high. His arm still feels weird, but that’s fine. He’ll deal with it later. 

Mikael ends up being the one who notices. Even’s back in their apartment and he’s about to hop in the shower to wash off the paint from his studio earlier, but he’s meeting Yousef and Elias in about forty-five minutes, so he takes his shirt off as he’s heading down the hallway.

“The fuck is that?” Mikael asks, pushing their hair out of the way to peer at Even’s shoulder.

Even instinctively raises his hand to cover his arm. “What?” he asks. He turns his head to see what Mikael sees, and oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck?

There’s a soulmark on his arm, unmistakable in its swirling colors, blues and reds and purples, and it’s exactly where he collided with the kid earlier.

“Oh, shit,” Even whispers, staring at it, mesmerized.

Mikael looks at him halfway amazed and halfway worried. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Yeah,” Even says grimly. “I guess I met him.”

“Him,” Mikael notes, eyebrows shooting up, and Even blushes. Mikael knows he’s pan, of course, but it’s not like Even’s ever dated a guy before. There’s been flings and one night stands but to be honest, he never really thought his soulmate would be a boy. There was always that possibility, but also, like, statistically, it won’t happen. Except it did happen. Except it  _ is _ happening.

Even shakes his head like that’ll clear his mind.

“Yeah,” he says, watching the colors in the soulmark swim lazily on the surface of his skin. “Him. I ran into this kid, like, literally  _ ran into  _ him, spilled coffee on him and everything, and our shoulders touched. Or, not touched, but slammed into each other. I thought it was a bruise or some shit.”

Mikael prods at the mark.

“Hey!”

“Does it feel weird?” they ask. “Like, does it feel like a bruise?”

“Feels… fuzzy,” Even says slowly. “Like pins and needles, but warm.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

The two of them stand there in the hallway, heads tilted, staring at the mark.                        

“So, like, do you know who this kid is?” Mikael asks.

And it hits Even then that yes, he knows who his soulmate is, but he doesn’t  _ know _ . “I have no idea,” he answers, and then grimaces as he thinks back to their interaction. “Fuck, he probably hates me.”

“Why?” Mikael scrunches up their nose.

“Mik, I spilled hot coffee all over him and yelled ‘sorry’ as I ran away,” Even admits.

Mikael sighs. “Even,” they say seriously, “you dumb fucking bitch.”

“It’s not my fault!” Even cries, flinging his arms up. “I had to go to class.”

“Dumb. Fucking.  _ Bitch _ .”

“I’ll cry,” Even warns them.

“Do it,” Mikael says. “You won’t.”

Even stands still for a second. “Yeah, I won’t,” he says. “Fuck you, though.”

With that, he spins into the bathroom, shutting the door on Mikael’s smirking face.

He spends most of his shower looking at his soulmark as opposed to, you know, actually showering. It’s weird having it on his own body. He’s seen his parents’, and Yousef has had his since he met Sana when he was thirteen, so it’s not like this is a new concept to him. It’s just new that it’s his. And it’s new that there’s someone out there he’s supposed to spend the rest of his life with and it’s weird that he’s seen that person and it’s weird that he doesn’t have any way of getting in touch with him and he watches as the colors swirl faster, becoming more muddied, and he wonders what that means for his soulmate. His mom used to let him stare at her hand, the common outline of a grip around it from where Even’s father shook her hand when they first met, calming greens and blues. He’d asked her to tell him about it probably fifty times, and she always indulged him.

“When you father’s hand touched mine,” she would begin, “it felt like dipping my hand in cold water. It shocked me awake.”

Even had always anticipated that it’d feel the same for him. But this doesn’t feel like a shock. This feels like comfort. 

His mom told him about the way her soulmark felt and looked, pointing out the way it got darker the closer his father was and lighter with distance.

Even lets his fingers drift over the undefined edges of his soulmark. He gets out of the shower and goes through the motions of drying off, getting dressed, doing his hair and grabbing his wallet and keys. He walks to the coffee shop in a daze. Elias and Yousef are already there, sipping on coffee and picking at what looks like a muffin between them, and Elias waves dramatically.

“Even, my man,” he says as Even gets closer, and Even nods at him.

“What’s up?” Yousef asks, scooting over to make more room for Even and sliding the muffin to him.

“Met my soulmate,” Even mutters. He figures that it’s better to get it over with.

“What?” Elias chokes on a bite.

“Excuse me?” Yousef asks accusingly.

Even slips off his jacket and pushes back his t-shirt sleeve to expose the soulmark. 

“Damn,” Yousef says, leaning in to look. He compares his own to Even’s -- dark purple and silver tendrils across his knuckles where they brushed against Sana’s in the Bakkoush’s kitchen.

“Who?” Elias demands.

Even winces. “I… don’t know.”

Elias looks dumbfounded. “How do you not know?”

“I ran into him right before class and had to leave. I didn’t even realise it was my soulmark until later; I thought it was just a bruise,” Even says, defending himself, or at least attempting to. 

“Not valid,” Elias declares.

“Wait,” Yousef says, “you ran into  _ him _ ?”

Even realises right in that moment that he’s forgotten to come out to Yousef.

“Yeah, it was a boy.”

While Yousef processes the fact that Even likes guys, Elias is already hard at work finding the kid, whipping out his phone and pulling up Facebook.

“What did he look like? I’m talking height, eye color, hair color, clothing,  _ everything _ .”

“Uh,” Even says, screwing his eyes shut and picturing the boy in front of him, “almost as tall as me. Curly blond hair, but it was under a snapback, which he was wearing backwards, so that was kind of weird. Red hoodie. Black Adidas jacket. Really cute face. He was lowkey ripped, too, like, I could feel his muscles when I crashed into him.”

“Yousef,” Elias says excitedly, clapping his hands together and wiggling in his chair, “Yousef. Yousef, Yousef, Yousef.”

Yousef raises an eyebrow.

“Do you know,” Elias starts, “Sana’s friend? The one who studies with her all the time?”

Even watches Yousef’s face light up in recognition. “Oh shit, yeah, he totally fits.”

“What’s his name?”

“Uh,” Yousef says, staring blankly.

“I’m going to look through Sana’s friends,” Elias decides. He scrolls for barely any time at all before shrieking in delight. “Isak!”

“Isak!” Yousef echoes.

“Isak?” Even questions, blinking. This is all happening so fast. 

“Isak,” Elias confirms, spinning the phone so that Even can see, and holy shit, it’s the kid from earlier. Even blinks again. That’s his soulmate on the screen.

He’s cute -- more than cute, really. He’s kind of completely gorgeous. Nose that turns up at the end, greenish-blue eyes, pretty lashes and curved lips.

“He’s… he’s friends with Sana?” Even asks as he looks up, eyes darting between Elias and Yousef, who both nod eagerly.

“They study together all the time,” Yousef offers.

“Same pre-med track,” Elias adds.

There’s silence for a second, during which Even stares at the picture in front of him. It almost feels like his soulmark is tingling again. 

“That’s your  _ soulmate _ , man,” Elias says happily.

Yousef claps a hand on Even’s back. “How do you feel?”

“Fucking, uh… Jesus,” Even says, shaking his head. “I gotta talk to him.”

“I’ll get his number from Sana,” Elias immediately says. He’s tying rapidly on his phone, hyper-focused and concentrating.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Even asks quietly. Yousef hears him.

“I mean, he is your soulmate.”

Even frowns. “Yeah,” he says, “yeah, you’re right.”

He thinks about texting Isak the whole way home, sipping at the coffee that Elias bought him to celebrate.

When he gets home, he immediately goes into Mikael’s room, opening their door and laying down beside them in bed.

“Elias knows him,” Even says quietly. “Sana sent me his number.”

“Holy shit,” Mikael says, sitting up. “Are you gonna text him?”

“Yeah. I just have to figure out what to say.”

_ Hey Isak, this is Even. _

_ Hey! I got your number from Sana _

_ Hey Isak, I got your number from Sana. This is your soulmat _ _ e. _

_ I think we’re soulmates. _

_ Do you have a soulmark? _

_ Do you hate me? _

_ You’re. hot. _

_ Hey Isak, I think we’re soulmates. I got your number from Sana. My name’s Even. I’d really like the chance to talk to you, if you’re up for it. _

“Yeah,” Mikael says triumphantly, “send that one.”

“You sure?” Even asks.

“Yes. Do it.”

Even hits the send button and breathes out, long and slow, watching to see when Isak reads the message.

“Chill out,” Mikael tells him. “It’ll probably take a little bit for him to open it.”

Even’s heart jumps into his throat. “He’s typing.” His soulmark throbs.

_ Sure _ , Isak writes.  _ When are you free? _

“Oh, Jesus, he wants to know when I’m free,” Even says, leaning down and putting his head in his hands. He pulls at his hair a little bit, a habit he picked up to help with his anxiety. It’s grounding, his therapist says.

“Chill,” Mikael says again. They shake their head. “You’re free the rest of today and tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah,” Even says, mostly to himself. “Yeah, okay, yeah.”

_ The rest of today and tomorrow morning. _

Isak opens it almost immediately.

_ Meet me outside the chemistry building at four? _

Even lets out a long breath, again, this one of relief. “He wants to meet me,” he says in awe.

Mikael pumps their fist in the air. “Oh, fuck yeah.”

Even checks the time. “Holy fuck, that’s an hour from now. Mik, that’s an hour from now. What the fuck do I do?”

“Don’t freak out, first of all,” Mikael answers. “Get dressed in something nicer than pajama pants, second of all.”

“Thank you, Mikael,” Even deadpans. “I have never considered either of those things.”

Mikael hits him with a pillow. “Clothes,” they direct, “now.”

Black skinny jeans. Sneakers. A white tee and his denim jacket thrown over it.

“Good?” Even asks, spinning around so Mikael can see.

“Good,” Mikael confirms. “Can I talk you into eyeliner?”

Even rolls his eyes. “This is not an eyeliner occasion.”

“Every occasion is an eyeliner occasion if you’re not a pussy.”

“No.”

“Fine,” Mikael says dramatically. “I’m going to go put on some eyeliner and I’m going to look absolutely killer and you’re going to look like a man who doesn’t care about his appearance.”

“Makeup doesn’t equate care,” Even notes.

“I happen to like makeup.”

“Because the patriarchal society we live in has convinced you that you need it to look feminine.”

Mikael pokes their head out of the bathroom and points an eyeliner pencil at Even. “Looking feminine is a concept that I do not subscribe to. I look like me. I don’t look like a gender.”

“Then what’s the makeup for?” Even challenges.

Mikael pouts. “I just think I look pretty.”

Sighing, Even gives up. “You do look pretty, Mik. Very pretty.”

Mikael grins wide and offers Even a nod. For some reason, arguing with Mikael always calms Even down. He guesses it’s because it’s familiar, because he’s been doing it for half his life, because it distracts him and makes him smile. 

“Put on deodorant,” Mikael yells.

Even ends up being outside the chem building fifteen minutes early, smelling fresh and nervously tapping his fingers against the bench he’s sitting on. He’s probably had too much caffeine today, between this morning and then indulging himself in more coffee when he met Yousef and Elias, and he’s always worried about an episode when his mind gets fast but it’s the coffee, he reminds himself, just the coffee.

He chews on his bottom lip and stares at his phone blankly, trying to calm his nerves.

“Hey. Even?”

Even jerks his head up. “Hi! Isak, hi, yeah, I’m Even.” He stands awkwardly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Isak is tugging at his sleeves. “Hi,” he says.

Even’s kind of struck by the gravity of the moment -- this is the first real conversation that he’s having with his fucking  _ soulmate _ , for fuck’s sake. This is a big fucking deal.

“Hey,” Even says, before he realises that he’s already greeted Isak, twice, actually, and he ducks his head to hide his blush. “Do you want to go grab a coffee or something?”

He winces, firstly because that sounds lame as hell, especially for what’s basically their first date, and secondly because if he has any more coffee, his brain can and will go off the fucking rails. 

“Look,” Isak says, not making eye contact. “There’s something you should know.”

Even stutters in his step towards Isak. “Uh, okay?”

Isak finally looks up at Even. “I already have a soulmate,” he says, reaching his hands out to Even. The tips of his fingers are covered in dark blue and gold, like he just gently touched someone.

Even stares. “Do you… How many…”

“Two,” Isak answers quickly. “This one and then one from where we touched earlier.”

“Jesus,” Even says. It’s the only thing he can think to say.

“I just… need some time,” Isak says, running his hands through his hair. “To figure stuff out.”

“Shit, yeah. Of course.” Even pauses. “Do you think… Do you think that one of them is platonic? Or are they both…”

Isak pulls his sleeves over his hands again. “I don’t know,” he says shortly.

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

Even scuffs the toe of his shoe against the ground. “We can still go grab coffee,” he finds himself offering, “if you’re up for it.”

Isak shakes his head, abrupt and controlled. “I gotta get home,” he says. “Study and all.”

“Yeah, sure. Will you, uh, text me?” Even asks, feeling like a dumb fucking rock.

Isak shrugs and then he’s gone.

Even’s soulmark feels cold.

  
  



	2. isak

“Should I ghost him?”

“Isak. Listen to me,” Eva says, placing both her hands firmly on Isak’s shoulders and looking up at him. “This is your soulmate. You’re not ghosting him.”

“That,” Isak says pointedly, “has not been proven yet.”

“You literally have a soulmark,” Eva sighs. It’s not the first time they’ve had this conversation today. She lets her hands slide off of Isak and moves to sit on top of the counter.

“Could be platonic,” Isak mutters. He’s halfway hoping that Eva doesn’t hear him.

“Not with the way you’re blushing right now,” Eva shoots back.

“Fuck all the way off.”

Eva sips at her soda loudly. “I will do no such thing. Besides, Jonas is your platonic soulmate.”

Isak is silent.

“Issy,” Eva says gently, obviously realising what she’s just said, “give it a chance with Even.”

Isak slams the refrigerator shut, beer in hand. “Why should I? He’s a dick.”

“You’ve met him twice. Give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“Twice is enough to know that I don’t want him to be my soulmate.”

“Well, too fucking bad,” Eva says, waving a french fry at Isak. “He is.”

“I could make him not be,” Isak says sulkily.

“What are you gonna do, kill him?” Eva challenges.

Isak rolls his eyes so far back in his head that he remembers his mother telling him they’d get stuck like that. “No. I’ll just avoid him until my soulmark fades.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Happened to my parents.” He takes a dramatically timed sip of beer.

“No, they stopped being soulmates first,” Eva says. It’s not the first time they’ve had this conversation either. “Get your facts straight.”

“Nothing in this apartment is straight.”

Eva lets out a little huff of air through her nose, as close to a laugh as she’ll give Isak for that one. “Don’t use gay jokes to get out of this conversation.”

“I do what I want.”

“You act all tough,” Eva says, gracefully breezing past Isak to throw away her McDonald’s wrappers, “but everyone knows you’re a softie at heart.”

“Am not.”

Eva sighs again. “Isak, text him.”

She heads to her room and Isak waits until she’s out of earshot before he mutters, “No.”

He thinks she hears him, though, because he hears a sound that seems suspiciously like a groan or a yell of some kind.

See, the worst part is that he knows she’s right. He knows he should text Even. He knows Jonas doesn’t love him like that. But there’s a part of him that believes he was destined to be unlucky in love, that he was destined to have two soulmates but be unable to be with either, because he’s too in love with the one he’s supposed to be best friends with. Fuck. His life is a goddamn mess.

Not to be dramatic or anything, but he flings himself onto his bed and lets out a deep breath.

**Google search:**

_ how to get rid of a soulmate _

_ how to tell if a soulmate is platonic _

_ gay soulmates _

_ pornhub.com soulmates gay _

Fuck that, he thinks, flinging his phone across the room before the page even finishes loading. He’s just got to accept that he’s going to die alone and probably covered in soulmarks because he falls in love with every guy he ever touches and none of them will ever love him back. It’s inevitable, he realises, and probably genetic.

**Google search:**

_ why do soulmarks vanish _

He clicks on the first link.

_ Soulmarks (see article here) can vanish for any number of reasons. Several of the most common include, but are not limited to, death, sickness, or damage to the trust of a relationship. After the loss of a soulmate, for any of the aforementioned reasons, marks often fade slowly or gradually, leaving the mate with feelings of depression and grief. Some mates elect to get soulmark tattoos (see article here) to simulate the look of their vanished soulmark.  _

Not exactly what he was looking for, so he goes back and scrolls until he finds some random forum.

**How and why did you lose your soulmark?**

_ I lost my soulmark the instant that my soulmate died. I knew before the doctors told me, sitting there in the waiting room and watching it vanish from my hands. It was a terrifying experience. _

_ > Did you feel any sensation when you lost it _

_ >> Cold. _

_ i lost mine slowly. we had been married for fifteen years when i first started to notice that the colors weren’t as bright and that the swirling had slowed down. my soulmate didn’t notice and i didn’t say anything. sometimes i think that if she had noticed, if she had asked me about it, our relationship may have been saved. but she didn’t. and so it faded and faded until it was barely there and i came home to find her drawers all cleared out. she lives with her mom now. i live alone. _

_ > Wow… _

_ > do u think that u could ever get back with her??? _

_ >> no. whatever made us soulmates doesn’t exist anymore. _

_ >>> Why do you think that is ? _

_ >>>> we just became different people than the people who were meant to be. _

There’s another link at the bottom, to a different thread, and he blinks when he reads it.

**Do you believe in soulmates?**

He’s afraid to open it. It’s something that’s crossed his mind, for sure, especially when he was alone and it was dark and he ran his left hand over the soulmark on his right, the one that fits with the green one on Jonas’s upper arm, and he’s wondered if any of it was real. It seems kind of like a cruel joke. 

Here’s your soulmate, the universe said, but you can’t love him. You can’t touch him, can’t kiss him, can’t even look at him without feeling sick to your stomach. That’s just how it is. And, now, to further complicate things, here’s a piece of shit soulmate who crashed into your shoulder and into your life and you have to make a choice. Choose.

And as much as he hates himself for it, he’s always going to choose Jonas. He’s always going to put himself back in that same position, always going to break his own heart, always going to ruin his own motherfucking life. 

That’s just how it is.

He turns off his phone before he texts Jonas something dumb, something that’s running through his mind like  _ it’s two in the morning and i love you, it’s two in the morning and i miss you, it’s two in the morning and i think you’re the love of my fucking life.  _ He’s a dumb fucking bitch and he’s weak and he hasn’t talked to Jonas in a month. 

He gets up.

“Eva,” he whispers, knocking on her door gently, “are you awake?”

“Come in,” Eva mutters. She’s sleepy and groggy but she’s warm and she’s awake and Isak really does love this girl. Honestly, sometimes he doesn’t know how Eva isn’t his platonic soulmate.

Isak slips into bed beside her.

“Lonely?” she asks, curling into him.

“Yeah,” he breathes out.

Eva’s cheek in pushed up against his bare chest and he can feel the warmth of her breath over his heart. 

“Wanna talk about it?”

He scoffs gently. “Never.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Isak opens his mouth, because it’s safe in the dark with Eva’s arm slung over his hip and Eva’s the only one who could ever talk to him about this.

“I miss Jonas,” he says.

“Me too,” Eva says. “I miss him and I miss being in love.”

Isak brushes his hand over Eva’s hair. It’s shoulder length now and he likes it, thinks it suits her.

Eva’s eyelashes flutter against his chest. “I’m a little jealous of you,” she says quietly.

“What? Why?”

“You have two soulmates. I have none.”

Isak pulls back a little bit, making out the edges of Eva’s features. “I hate soulmates,” he tells her, and he means it in every sense. 

“I know,” she answers, comforting and cosy. “Always the cynic.”

Isak rests his chin on top of her head. “It’s a shit system,” he mutters.

“I think it’s romantic,” Eva whispers. Isak almost misses it.

“How so?”

Eva lifts her head to answer. “There’s someone out there,” she says slowly, “who will love you in your rawest form. Someone who will love you for the rest of your shared life and who was made to love you.”

“Yeah, but that shit doesn’t always work out. Like, there are flaws in the system.”

“Don’t think of it as a system.” Eva shakes her head gently. “Think of it as people. That’s all it is.”

Isak is silent. He thinks Eva is asleep when he admits it, when he closes his eyes and says, “I don’t know if I believe in soulmates.”

He only knows she’s awake because she holds him tighter, pressing the palm of her flat against the expanse of his back. She doesn’t say anything. Eventually, Isak’s mind quiets and he sleeps.

He wakes up to Eva’s alarm, blaring beside their heads and Eva groans. Isak drifts in and out of sleep while Eva goes through the motions of getting ready for her classes, showering and picking out clothes and flipping her hair up into that weird towel tower that girls make on their heads. He watches her put on mascara and closes his eyes during lip gloss.

“Do you want me to bring back coffee?” she stage-whispers, standing in profile in the doorway.

Isak rolls over.

“I take that as a yes,” Eva says, and then she’s gone.

Isak’s still in bed when she gets back. Her morning class is only an hour long, so it’s not that bad. Plus, nineteen is still a teenager, so he can get away with it. 

“Large black coffee in the kitchen,” Eva croons, poking Isak in the cheek.

He cracks an eye open and grins. “Have I told you that I love you?”

She points an accusing finger at him. “Listen,” she says, “I was going to bring you some breakfast, but you didn’t answer my texts.”

“My condolences,” Isak jokes through a yawn.

Eva rolls her eyes, which is something that she definitely picked up from Isak, no matter how much she tries to deny it. “Get up, jackass.”

She leaves and Isak hauls his body out of her bed. He stops by his room on the way to the kitchen, grabbing his phone and turning it back on. There’s a string of texts from Eva, which he scrolls past only to find a bunch of messages from Even that were surprisingly sent at three in the morning.

_ Hey, sorry if I came off as an asshole today. I promise I’m not usually like that, haha. _

_...Saying that is kind of an asshole move, so just ignore me. _

_ Please don’t ignore me. _

_ But I’m not, like, begging or anything. I just want to talk to you. _

_ Sorry about all the texts. My best friend is asleep and they’re a solid 85% of my impulse control. _

_ Okay, I’m going to go to bed now. _

Isak blinks a few times. He takes a second to identify what he’s feeling, and he’s a little surprised when he recognises that he’s actually pretty fucking pissed off. Even just seems so  _ entitled _ , like Isak owes him something, like Isak should talk to him and should love him just because some stupid colors on their arms say so. Yeah, fuck that. He’s going to do what he wants, and right now, he wants to ignore everyone except for Eva, drink some coffee, and lounge around in his sweatpants until the absolute last second. 

He does precisely that, and then he goes to his lecture and diligently takes notes even though absolutely none of it registers in his mind. It’s not like he’s not paying attention, because he’s trying his fucking hardest, but it’s more like his mind is full with all the shit that’s been going on and he just doesn’t have room for anything else. And his soulmarks are sore, both of them, which is weird. He watches the tendrils curl around his fingers.

They met when Isak was thirteen and Jonas was fourteen. Valtersen and Vasquez and they sat alphabetically, Jonas in front of Isak and Isak behind Jonas and Isak remembers so clearly reaching out with his right hand to tap Jonas on the arm and he remembers the horrible feeling in his stomach as he watched colors bloom on Jonas’s skin, right beneath his fingertips. They were young, first in their class to get a soulmark. He remembers that the teacher stopped class and started a lesson on the basics of soulmarks and mates. Isak nearly cried. It was confusing and it was awful and he wanted to disappear the whole time and Jonas wouldn’t look at him and then they heard the word  _ platonic  _ and everything made sense. Jonas flashed him a grin and Isak fell in love.

He misses his soulmate. Not this random kid that won’t fucking stop texting him, asking him to talk, making his soulmark swirl and flood with color, but his real soulmate. He just fucking misses Jonas and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

It’s raining when he leaves the building, the cold type of rain that soaks through his clothes and weighs heavy on his shoulders. He walks home slowly. In the moment, he can’t be bothered to worry about his notes getting wet, but when he gets back to the apartment he’s grateful that they’re pretty dry.

“It’s a Friday night,” Eva calls when she hears him come in.

“And what about it?” He’s fully expecting her to come out of her room dressed in something shimmery and demanding he go out to a club with her.

“The girls are coming over.”

He chews at his lip. “Oh.”

“Is that okay?” Eva asks gingerly.

“Yeah,” he says, “yeah, I’ll just hang out in my room.”

Eva clears her throat. “Or,” she begins, “you could hang out with us.”

He considers it for a second, thinks about Eva sitting with her feet in his lap and Chris scrolling through playlists on Spotify and Vilde drinking wine and Noora laughing at whatever joke Chris just made and Sana watching over it all with that little knowing smile on her face, and he imagines being part of it.

“Thanks for the offer,” he says. “I’m going to the library, though.”

“Okay.”

She seems like she was expecting him to say no, which makes part of him want to stay and prove her wrong, but he doesn’t. He goes to his room and changes into dry clothes and then thirty minutes before the girls get there, he grabs a raincoat and leaves.


	3. even

He catches him out of the corner of his eye.

And he’s walking over to Mutta and Adam’s place to hang out with the guys, but he stops, runs his hand over his right shoulder, and decides to take a detour.

He ducks into the library.

Isak’s sitting by himself at a little table, back to the door, unloading books and pens out of his backpack.

Even approaches him quietly. He stands there for a second, watching Isak flip through a notebook filled with messy writing. It’s weird to see paper without doodles on it.

“Hey, Isak,” Even says, pushing his hands into the front pocket of his sweatshirt.

Isak jumps.

“Sorry,” Even adds hastily. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Isak raises his eyebrows and turns back to his papers.

“I, uh, just saw you heading in here and I figured that I’d say hi.” Even only realises how creepy that sounds after he’s already said it.

“Okay,” Isak says coolly, looking up at Even.

“Well. I guess I’ll see you around.” Even shifts his weight, waiting for Isak to say something, but Isak just nods a couple times and then picks up a pen.

Even leaves the library and barrels across campus to Adam and Mutta’s, bursting through the door to find everyone lounging on the floor.

“Boys,” Even says, with all the drama he can muster, “my soulmate hates me.”

There’s a chorus of voices, the kind where Even can only make out words, not who said them.

“The fuck?”

“Why?”

“Fuck him.”

“He’s a dick.”

“Give the kid some time.”

“No, fuck him!”

“Yeah, fuck him.”

“Fuck him,” Mikael says, raising their eyebrows, “but also, like,  _ fuck  _ him.”

Even rolls his eyes. “Did you not hear the whole part about how he hates me?”

Yousef leans back against Elias’s legs. “Have you tried talking to him?”

“Yes!” Even cries, throwing up his arms. He flops down next to Mikael on the floor. “All I’ve been doing is trying to talk to him.”

“Even, my man,” Elias says as he leans forward, “in my humble opinion, you shouldn’t be so desperate.”

“I am desperate, though.”

“Just, like… don’t be,” Adam chimes in.

“Wow, Adam, that was great advice.” Elias’s voice is dripping with sarcasm. “Shut up.”

“Oh,” Mikael says, just as sarcastically, “like your advice was any better.”

“Put a little distance between the two of you and he’ll come to you begging for your love,” Elias declares.

“I thought you were going to say dick instead of love.”

“Adam, shut  _ up _ .”

Adam throws up his arms and leans into Mutta, who’s just sitting and observing with amusement.

Even sighs. “Seriously, guys,” he says, “do you think I should stop texting him?” He looks to Mikael, because they know him best and they’re the most likely to be dead honest.

“Yeah,” Mikael says gently. “You can’t force him to love you, so I say just let him breathe and take his time. He’ll come around. You’re his soulmate, for fuck’s sake.”

A couple of the boys murmur their agreement. Even taps his fingers against the side of his leg.

“Okay.”

“We love you, man,” Mutta says. “We just want you to be happy.”

Yousef nods. “Whatever that looks like for you.”

“Thanks, boys,” Even says with as much of a grin as he can muster when the person who’s supposed to love him through everything won’t even talk to him. It’s fine.

They spend the rest of the night watching shitty Nic Cage movies and eating pizza and dancing to Jaden Smith. Even tries to forget about Isak, tries to forget about the mark on his arm and how his heart throbs when he thinks about the way Isak’s hair curls over his ears or the way his handwriting slants to the left on the paper or anything about him, really. 

He trudges back home with his hands in his sweatshirt pocket, walking next to Mikael, who bumps their shoulders together.

“You doing okay?” they ask. 

Even offers up a smile. “Yeah,” he says, “I’m alright.”

They walk past the library and Even can’t help but wonder if Isak’s in there, still studying, still filling up those notebook pages, and he’s thinking about Isak’s hands when Isak himself walks out of the building.

“Shit, Mik,” Even says, grabbing onto Mikael’s arm, “that’s him.”

“That’s him?” Mikael asks. They peer past Even. “Oh, he’s cute.”

“We gotta hide,” Even declares.

“We gotta what now?”

“Mikael, listen, it looks like I’m stalking him.”

Mikael gestures at the area around the two of them. “Where are we gonna hide, huh? The bushes?”

And not to say that Even considers it, but Even considers it.

“Even?” Isak’s voice rings clear down the steps of the library and Even freezes in place.

“Hey, Isak. I was just walking home,” Even says cheerily. Not stalkerish at all.

“Yeah,” Isak says, wary, like he thinks Even’s lying. He walks down the steps, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, and all Even can think is  _ fuck, he’s beautiful _ .

“Hi, I’m Mikael, Even’s best friend,” Mikael announces noisily. 

Even blushes. 

Isak nods at Mikael, his hand clutching the strap of his backpack.

“Anyways,” Even says, clearing his throat, “we should get going.”

“Same,” Isak replies, looking away and Even notices, notices that Isak can’t even look at him and he’s pissed. Fine. Whatever. Be like that. 

Isak turns away and starts walking.

“Oh, shit!” Mikael exclaims.

Even turns to them, questioning, and Mikael just raises their eyebrows. 

“Left my phone with the boys,” they say as an explanation. “I’ll run back and grab it.”

“Want me to come with?” Even offers. He doesn’t really mean it and Mikael knows that, so they shake their head.

“Nah, I’ll just be a second. See you later!” Mikael jogs backwards, waving, and then they turn the corner and they’re gone.

Even sighs. He’s alone, Isak gone and Mikael gone, and he’s suddenly tired. 

He begins to walk home, and after six steps, the skies open up and he’s drenched.

“Fuck!”

He starts running, holding his hands over his head like that’s going to help, but the rain’s coming down so hard that it stings his skin, and he’s just wondering if Isak made it home when a hand grabs his arm.

“Come inside!” Isak yells over the sound of the rain and the thunder, and Even doesn’t question it. He follows Isak into the building.

Isak’s still got his hand on Even’s arm. He leads Even up a flight of stairs and then to the left, jamming his key into one of the doors and flinging it open.

Safe inside Isak’s apartment, Even laughs and runs his fingers through his hair, which is soaking wet and dripping all over the floor.

“Eva?” Isak calls, poking his head into one of the rooms. Getting no response, he shrugs and turns back to Even.

“If you want,” he says as he scratches at the back of his head, “you can stay here until it stops storming.”

Even blinks. Isak  _ still  _ seems like he hates Even, so Even has no idea where this is coming from, but he watches raindrops slam against the window and decides that this is his best option at the moment. 

Isak shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m gonna go get changed. Uh, if you want dry clothes, mine should… fit you.” He coughs and looks down.

“Yeah,” Even says, still kind of shocked, “that’d be great. Thanks.”

Isak nods and vanishes into what Even assumes is his bedroom. While he waits, Even takes the opportunity to snoop around the apartment a little.

He’s standing in a room with a couch and a TV and little else other than some pictures haphazardly taped to the wall. He moves closer to see them and there’s Isak smiling and glowing between a red-haired girl and cute curly-haired boy, the girl and Isak at a carnival, the girl with a group of other girls, including Sana, he realises with a jolt. That’s weird. It’s weird having different parts of his life collide together, and, he thinks, it’s weird that he considers Isak part of his life. 

“Here,” Isak says, tossing a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants on the couch. He’s wearing all gray, a t-shirt and sweatpants slung low on his hips and Even has to catch his breath. He has to remember how to fill his lungs with air and he has to remember to hate Isak, because Isak hates him and he has to protect himself. 

“Thanks,” Even says shortly. He picks up the clothes. 

“You can, uh, change in my room or the bathroom,” Isak tells him, pointing to one door and then the other. Even picks the bedroom, figuring that it’ll be less tempting than being in the room where Isak strips and showers and emerges dripping in water with his hair all dark and  _ shit _ . Even shakes his head to clear his mind, which is a mistake, because it directs his line of sight over to the bed, with its tangled sheets and dirty clothes and now he’s imagining Isak waking up sleepy and adorable and soft and naked and he’s made a huge mistake.

He throws the clothes on and gets out of there as quickly as possible, holding his wet clothes in his left hand and finding Isak stretched on the couch on his phone.

“I can hang those up,” Isak says, standing.

“What?”

“Your clothes,” Isak answers slowly, eyebrows raised and annoyance in his voice. “I can hang them up so that they get dry.” He reaches out and grabs the clothes.

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Okay… Can you let go of them?”

Even blushes. “Sorry,” he says, unclenching his fist, and he thinks he catches Isak rolling his eyes as he takes the clothes into the bathroom and slings them over the shower rod so that they can drip into the bathtub.

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Isak asks, except it sounds harsh, like an accusation. “While we wait for your clothes to dry,” he adds. “And for the storm to stop.”

“Sure,” Even says. He’s still in shock that this whole thing is even happening, to be completely honest, so he’ll probably agree to whatever Isak says. 

Even follows Isak into the main room of the apartment, where Isak drapes himself over the couch again, leaving a worn-looking chair for Even to sit it. He sits gingerly and it’s surprisingly comfortable.

Isak flips through Netflix and Even’s trying so hard not to look at Isak that he’s not paying attention to what’s on the TV, and that’s how they end up watching some piece of shit action movie. Even stays silent and just focuses on not listening to whatever’s pulling him towards Isak. He has a hunch that it’s their soulbond, and he finds himself wondering about Isak’s other soulmate and what their future looks like and if there’s a future at all, and he doesn’t even know how he ended up in Isak’s apartment or why Isak invited him in and so as soon as the credits roll on the movie, he speaks. 

“Look,” he says, “I don’t know what your deal is, but can you at least talk to me?”

He holds his breath for a response. To his surprise, Isak sits up, folds his hands in his lap, and says, “Okay. About what?”

Even blinks. “Uh.” He hadn’t quite planned out this much. “I guess, like, what’s the deal with us?”

Isak shrugs, avoiding eye contact. “I already have a soulmate,” he says quietly.

“Yeah, so where are they?” And it’s kind of harsh but it’s what Even wants to know.

Isak glances up quickly and then looks back down at the hands tangled in his lap. “He’s… not here.”

Even waits, stays quiet and patient and hopes that Isak gives him more.

It works. “We’ve been soulmates since we were like thirteen,” Isak says, still looking down, still quiet, like it’s a confession and the rain almost drowns out his words. “It’s platonic for him.”

And there’s a horrible sinking feeling in Even’s stomach as he realises what Isak’s phrasing means --  _ platonic for him _ . 

Fuck.

His soulmate’s in love with another guy.

A distance forms now, one that Even puts in place, one that keeps Isak safe and keeps himself safer. This is his soulmate, Even knows that, but he has to take care of himself. He’s been through too much shit to fall in love with a boy who loves someone else. So he straightens his back, shifts his weight, and nods.

“Are you going to try with him?” Even asks, and his voice sounds emotionless even to himself. Good.

“No,” Isak answers. “He doesn’t want to.”

“Are you going to try with me?”

Isak’s head snaps up and he blinks, mouth slightly open. “I… I don’t know.”

“Isak,” Even says gently, “I can’t be with someone who wants to be with someone else.”

“But he’s not here,” Isak says, sounding a little lost and a little desperate, and Even wants to reach out his hand more than anything. He doesn’t.

“I know.” Even’s heart is breaking for Isak, but he can’t let himself be hurt by this. He has to protect them both, and that’s why he stands, bare feet on the wood floor, and says, “I think I should leave.”

Isak looks small on the couch and that surprises Even. 

“Please don’t,” he says.

Even sighs, and then Even stays.


	4. isak

Isak wakes up on the couch and when he opens his eyes, he sees Even in the chair, arms and legs hanging off, neck bent at a weird angle. There’s light coming in from the windows and his right leg is numb.

He gets up carefully and heads to the kitchen, making sure not to wake up Even as he tiptoes past the chair. Eva must have crashed at someone’s place because her keys aren’t in the dish and he didn’t hear her come in last night.

Isak starts the coffee. He sits at the kitchen table and stares at his hands, Jonas’s soulmark stagnant on his fingers. It hasn’t moved in ages. Even’s soulmark, on the other hand, has been spinning with color and motion ever since they first touched and it bloomed on his arm. He supposes that should be a sign of sorts, maybe that he should give up on having something with Jonas, but he could never and he knows that. As long as there’s a mark on his fingers, there’s hope in his heart. And it’s cheesy and stupid and lame, but he can’t stop loving Jonas. He wishes he could. More than anything.

“Good morning,” Even says from behind him.

“Morning,” Isak answers, trying not to turn around. He picks at a hangnail and ignores the swoop in his stomach at the sound of Even’s morning voice.

“It stopped raining,” Even notes, opening the refrigerator like he lives there. He rifles through cabinets until he finds a glass and then pours himself some orange juice.

“Yeah.”

“So I’ll grab my clothes and head home.”

“Yeah.” It’s all Isak is capable of saying and he’s not even looking at Even, instead staring at his fingertips.

Even takes a sip of orange juice. “Will I see you again?” he asks quietly.

“Uh,” Isak says, shooting a quick glance over to where Even’s leaning up against the counter, “I don’t know.”

It’s a little overwhelming to have Even in his kitchen, alone in his apartment and wearing his clothes and sipping from his glass (Eva’s glass) and just being his  _ soulmate _ .

“Okay,” Even says gently. “Can I text you?”

He’s treating Isak like an injured baby animal and it’s pissing Isak off.

“Do what you want,” Isak answers, short and harsh. He watches Even flinch out of the corner of his eye and he almost smiles.

Even recovers quickly and Isak can hear the grin in Even’s voice as he says, “Oh, I will.” 

If he didn’t know better, he’d say it was flirtatious, but Even straight up told him that he didn’t want him and couldn’t be with him and he knows that he doesn’t want to be with Even either, so why is his heart fluttering in his chest? Jesus fucking Christ.

“Okay,” Even says, knocking back the last of the orange juice, “I’m gonna go grab my clothes.”

He sets the glass on the counter and leaves, heading down the hall to the bathroom, and Isak feels like he can breathe again with Even gone. It’s all going to be okay.

It’s all going to be okay, and then he hears the door open and a familiar step on the floor.

“Issy, baby,” Eva calls dramatically and happily, “I come bearing gifts.”

Fuck. This was not part of the plan.

Isak scrambles out of the chair to catch Eva before she finds Even, but it’s fruitless because the bathroom is closer to the front door and he hears Eva stop in her tracks.

“Hello,” she says, curious and cautious.

Isak holds his breath.

“Hi,” Even answers. “You must be Eva. I’m Even, Isak’s… yeah.”

“Even, yeah, hi. Do you know where Isak is?”

And Isak’s grateful that Eva’s keeping her cool in front of Even, but he also knows that she’s probably losing her shit internally, and she’s going to end up squealing at some point.

“He’s in the kitchen,” Even replies.

“Thanks!” Eva’s voice drifts down the hallway and her feet hurry towards the kitchen.

“Isak,” she whispers dramatically, gesturing with a box of croissants, “he’s so  _ hot _ .”

There are more footsteps coming down the hall and then Even’s behind her, looking far too amused to have not heard what she’s just said. 

“If either of you want a croissant,” Eva says, a little too loud, “I have some.”

Isak sighs. “I’ll take one.”

“I’m gonna head out,” Even says, cautious and slow, like he’s waiting for Isak to jump in and make him an offer. “Thanks, though.”

Isak avoids his gaze.

He leaves without ceremony and for a brief second, Isak considers walking him to the door and his mother’s voice sounds in his head, telling him it’s the polite thing to do, but he doesn’t. Instead, he eats his croissant and drinks his coffee and it’s fine.

Eva slaps him on the arm.

“Stop,” he whines, “I could’ve dropped my croissant.”

“Shut the fuck up, you little bitch,” she hisses. “What’s the problem? Why are you so cold to Even? How did he even end up here? Did he sleep here last night?”

Isak rolls his eyes in response. “Cool it,” he commands.

“Yeah, well, explain yourself first.”

“It was raining really hard, so I let him in. We watched a movie and ended up falling asleep. That’s all,” he says, shrugging and taking a sip of coffee. 

“But he’s your  _ soulmate _ ,” Eva exclaims.

“So’s Jonas,” Isak mutters, a little bitterly, but it’s fine.

Eva ignores him. That’s probably for the best at this point.

“You must feel, like, some connection with him,” Eva says. 

Isak shrugs. Sure, he feels drawn to Even, but he thinks that has more to do with the fact that he finds Even really hot than the fact that they’re technically soulmates. That’s just, like, a skin condition. Nothing actually substantial.

“No?” Eva prompts, looking at Isak like he holds all the answers. He realises then that Eva, who’s never had a soulmate, is seeking those answers, and she thinks that since Isak has two, he must know something she doesn’t.

Joke’s on her, though, because Isak knows jackshit. He doesn’t know where the fuck one of his soulmates is and he doesn’t know why the fuck the other one’s even his soulmate, and at this point he’s pretty sure the universe is just fucking with him. The universe wants him dead or, at the very least, so emotionally wounded that he can’t function.

“Eva,” he sighs, “I don’t know what to tell you.”

She deflates then and his chest hurts, because Eva always wears her emotions on her face and her heart on her sleeve and at this point he can imagine what she would have looked like when she first found out that Santa Claus wasn’t real. 

“I’m sorry,” he finds himself saying, even though he doesn’t quite know what he’s sorry for. He just knows that Eva’s hurting and it’s his fault. 

She shrugs it off. “I just… yeah, I just thought that you’d have some wise knowledge to drop on me.” She laughs, but it’s short and watery.

And here’s the thing: Isak Valtersen is not a hugger. He’s not a cuddler, or a hand holder, or a fan or any kind of physical contact with another human being. But here’s the girl who’s his best friend, and she’s standing in front of him close to tears because there aren’t any answers for the questions she has, and he can’t do anything to help her. 

So he hugs her.

He wraps his arms around Eva and rests his chin on her head and just feels the rhythm of her breathing. It’s shaky.

“You can cry if you need to,” he offers. He’s not sure that it’s the right thing to say, but it’s too late to take it back now.

“Thanks,” Eva says, voice muffled where her face is mashed against Isak’s chest. She says something else, but it’s a whisper and a mumble and Isak just misses it.

“What?”

Eva tenses. “Never mind,” she says quickly.

“Eva,” Isak chastises, rubbing his hand on her back, gently and rhythmically.

“It’s dumb,” she mutters.

Isak sighs. He’s a little exasperated by Eva dancing around the issue, but he tries to make his voice as even as possible. “Look, if it’s a thought or a feeling and it’s affecting you like this, then it’s not dumb. It’s significant and if you want to tell me you can, but there’s no pressure.”

She’s silent for a second, and then she asks the most heartbreaking question Isak’s ever heard.

“Do you think anyone will ever love me?”

He holds her tighter for a little bit, thinking of the right answer, but he can’t find it. 

“I think,” he starts slowly, knowing that he has to say something, “that you are probably the most loving person I know. And I think that, in the grand scheme of things, someone who puts that much love out into the world is bound to get some of it back. In all honesty, though, you deserve an infinite amount of love and I hope that you get it.”

Eva sniffles. Her fingers drum on Isak’s shoulder blades and she whispers, loud enough for him to hear, “Thank you.”

He presses a kiss into her hair and breathes in the smell of her shampoo and he doesn’t believe in God but in that moment he prays to whatever’s out there that they both end up okay.

Eva goes to her room and Isak is left alone. He almost calls her back because the silence is unbearable, because his thoughts keep bouncing around in his head. 

_ Do you think anyone will ever love you? _

And that question haunts him whenever there’s silence and fuck Eva for giving it a voice, because now it’s here and no longer haunting but straight up asking, demanding an answer, and he’s so afraid to admit to himself that the answer is no.

_ No, I don’t think anyone will ever love me. _

When he looks at his life, at all his relationships and the love he’s felt in the past, he has to wonder why the fuck this is happening to him. His mother always a distant figure, lost in battle with her own head for most of his childhood, and then in and out of hospitals, overmedicated into sedation, undermedicated into psychosis, never fully present and never fully loving. And his father, distant in a different way, working and coming home later and later and always saying  _ not now, Isak! _ until he was gone and he left silence in his place. Jonas. His best friend. His literal fucking soulmate, who was there one day with lips warm and gone the next, like the past years with Isak meant nothing. Like his soulmark meant nothing. 

Like Isak meant nothing.

That’s not to say that there aren’t good people in his life, and he takes a deep breath and combats his thoughts by remembering those who genuinely care for him. Eskild, for one. The older sibling he never had, obnoxious and overbearing but so good to him. And Eva, of course. Sometimes, he wonders if the universe fucked up and if Eva was supposed to be his platonic soulmate. She certainly feels more like a soulmate than either Jonas or Even.

_ You don’t deserve to have multiple soulmates _ , some awful little voice hisses, and Isak resists the urge to swat at the air around him to get it to stop.

He knows that, alright? He knows that he’s a fucked up person and he drags everyone down and he knows he’s a burden. He’s learned, from his past and from his present and from his future, that he’s not deserving of love. But he keeps fucking trying, keeps pressing on every day, keeps answering Even’s texts and inviting him in when it’s raining, keeps sneaking into Eva’s bed at night when things get too dark, keeps calling Eskild, keeps missing Jonas, keeps wanting his fucking mom.

It’s not his fault that he ruins everything.

And fuck, it’s not even ten in the morning and he’s already having a crisis at the kitchen table, running his fingers through his hair over and over again, biting at his lip until it bleeds and he’s a mess of a person. God.

“Isak,” Eva calls down the hallway, “do you want to go to the store with me later? We need toilet paper.”

It’s simple and it’s mundane but it brings Isak back down to Earth. He breathes, slowly, feeling his lungs inflate and remembering that he inhabits a physical form outside of his mind. Sometimes he loses that and it’s a little terrifying, but he’s okay. He’s going to be okay. He and Eva, they’re both going to be okay. They’re going to go to the store and buy toilet paper and keep doing that for the rest of their lives and they’ll never need anyone except each other, because fuck soulmates and fuck their parents and fuck the system. They’re going to be okay.

“Yeah,” Isak answers. “Sounds good to me.”


End file.
